


Unlimited Potential

by Anonymous



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Cheesy, Electricity, Mild Language, Other, Short & Sweet, Strangers to Lovers, Teen Angst, half of this fic is dj obsessing over lemon's powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The last person DJ expected to meet at their show was an electrifying fan afraid of his own power. Little did they know, he wasn't lying when he said that his powers were extraordinary.
Relationships: Lemon Cookie/DJ Cookie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36
Collections: Anonymous





	Unlimited Potential

When you first encountered him, it was after one of your shows. Rather than jumping to the music, he stood in the back of the room, lost in the music and the visual effects you liked to show off. The guy is weird, you won't lie. If he won't dance to the song, then what was the point? His lips resemble a straight line, and you catch yourself staring, taking it as a challenge. You haven't brought out the big guns yet, this next song will make him bang his head to the beat!

When the drop for the current song ends, you use that as an opportunity to transition into the next one. Might be a little early to play this tune, but you really want to impress this guy. Every time you look away, you find yourself glancing back to the yellow-haired individual that has his headphones in as if he's listening to music better than yours, at  _ your _ show. Your shows are always guaranteed to be packed. The area where he's standing is desolated, the crowd so close together on the other side of the room that their shoulders brush against each others. Hah, that sure is weird. It's like there's a force field around him.

After you notice this, you could've sworn the power went out for a split second.

* * *

Turns out, the loner you were trying to impress had a backstage pass. You were guzzling down water, the last of tonight's adrenaline running its course. Every other audience member had an amazing time, why should it matter if one didn't care? You couldn't shake it off. Even physically, which made you look pretty ridiculous. 

You can't wait to get to bed. Unfortunately, that's not the case for you. After you chat with fans who have VIP backstage passes, you have a meeting with Firecracker. What do they want to discuss now? If it were anyone else, you would've called the meeting off. Save it for another day. You know you can't do that— you don't have it in you to say no to your best friend.

Sitting down on a dark purple couch, you sigh, the room dead silent for a moment. That silence intensifies. It brings you a pain you haven't felt in years— one that a celebrity with adoring fans shouldn't experience—  _ loneliness _ . They see you and hover around you like you're their queen bee. Your fans are your friends, so why are you…  **annoyed** all of a sudden? Nothing particularly bad has happened. Nothing that would get you this riled up.  _ If I snap at someone for no reason, that would ruin their year _ , you think as you swallow dreadfully. 

Out of the corner of your visor, you glimpse the yellow-haired person, hanging around the corner like an awkward teenager as your other fans crowded around you. He waited until it cleared up to talk to you, minutes before you were supposed to leave, but there was something about his presence that made you stay. His voice was wobbly as he told you about how your music calms him, that he looks up to you and wonders how you create your beats. Then, he asked a question that spiked your concern for him.

"How do you just live in the moment? I'm envious that you don't overthink things."

You laugh. It was evidently a hollow imitation of your real one. "There's no use in that. I'd burn out fast."

He was restrained. His voice, his personality, the way he expressed himself, it was all filtered. "What if you press the wrong button? What if your lights stop working? What if everything fell apart, and it was  _ all _ your fault?"

"Woah, woah, chill out! That's a dangerous way of thinking. Approaching a situation with caution is never a bad thing, it's actually pretty normal, but if you're thinking of every horrible thing that could happen then you'll never get out of your own head."

Your words have an effect on him. That's the thing about being a celebrity— you can get through to people easier than most. How many people repeated what you just said to him, unable to be louder than the music he plays in those headphones? Although you don't think what you said was revolutionary, he looks stunned as if it was. That amazement is endearing. You'll never get tired of it.

"I have this power." 

His voice lowers to a mutter, like he'll face consequences if spoken any louder. "I can't control it sometimes. If people come near me, they could get seriously hurt. I don't expect you to know how this feels or to solve my problems, but your songs really resonate with me, and if I can't control my powers then I want to control my feelings."

You notice the lemon cube that's floating next to him. There's tiny sparks flying around it. "That yours?" you ask. "If I had to guess, you have electricity powers?"

"Yes," he confirms. He grabs the cube and puts it in his pocket, self-consciousness painting his expression. "It's not all bad. I can charge electronics. You don't want to hear me brag, though…"

"No, you should be proud of what you can do!" you encourage him. "If you try to manipulate your own emotions, then that's not really you, is it? It's okay to be scared. I don't know you personally, but I can tell that you're a caring individual. Don't hide your emotions. It'll be better for you in the long run."

His gaze is fixated on you. If only you had more time to spare, but you have people to see, shows to host. You lay your hand on his shoulder, and he shudders.

"I don't want to talk," he says. A smile rests on his face. It makes you smile back. "But I liked talking with you. If my cube was so impressive, then the rest of my powers will blow you away."

You return your hand to your side, and you start to like the sight in front of you. He has some serious potential. Firecracker would get a kick out of him.

It's not just that. He's getting you to reconsider the status quo. You barely know the guy, but he's getting feelings to bubble inside of you. If you're being honest, his power draws you in like a magnet.

"That's the spirit! Show me your power anytime, I'm not afraid. What's your name?"

He turns on his phone to check the time. Ten-thirty. You're gonna be late for your meeting with Firecracker. He meets your gaze, the barrier of your visor. You find that the eyes on them can make for better expressions than your real ones. "Lemon."

You tell him that you'll meet him— when can you cram this in? Ah, in six days. Checking your phone, you realize that you're going to be late to your meeting, and with one final longing expression you give him this information. Then you scamper off, leaving this peculiar fan of yours to his own devices. He's guided out of the room by a security guard.

* * *

He told you to meet at a secluded meadow, not a person that could be harmed by Lemon's electricity powers in sight. How strong is he, anyway? He takes this very seriously. In spite of your own suspicions, you obeyed without question. Fans are friends, after all. This example may not be the brightest in personality, but his electricity sure makes up for that. 

The nature has you feeling out of touch with the real world. One without technology. Your visor flashes colorful eyes that you could never live without, and it keeps you grounded. He arrives as you begin to wonder if this was all a prank.

The sky is blue and cloudless. Lemon is standing a few meters from you, hands in his pockets. 

"Are you sure you want to see my power?"

His voice barely meets your eardrums. You take a step forward, and Lemon retaliates. "Don't come close!" He yells. You stop.

"You're exaggerating. There's no way you'll hurt me, Lemon! If I'm not afraid, then you shouldn't be, either." You point up to the sky. "What good can lightning do if the weather is clear?"

A hand is raised, as though it were a signal. Gray clouds, seemingly from nowhere, cover up the sky.  _ What did I just cause? _ You ask yourself, a chill shaking you to your core. Your visor makes your surroundings look so dark that Lemon is all you see. Distant sounds of thunder are heard from above, and you gulp. The wind blows harshly, but there is no rain. You shudder.

"You asked for this," Lemon reminds amidst the growing storm. His voice carries a somber tone. "If I end up hurting my favorite artist, I'd never live it down. But you need to see this firsthand, or we'll never see eye to eye."

He looks down at the ground. "I'm sorry."

The lightning storm begins.

When you first met Lemon, he was weak.

Actually, he wasn't. He's strong. Mind blowingly strong. His power shakes the earth's core and, like an electrical current, went straight to your soul. He told you that people called him a battery. This is the first time he's showing you his power— for real, not the measly sparks that he demonstrated while charging his childhood friend's cellphone, you understood why. The world was yellow, your visor and headphones making the color saturated, dulling the sounds of howling lightning that could have easily damaged your sight and hearing. When the smoke cleared, the blue skies and clear fields looked like illusions. The world with Lemon letting go, his fear of hurting you, of going out of control, was real. 

You wrote a song about it. The feelings running through you at the time— fear that his breathtaking power could kill you, admiration for it. It was different from your other songs, but was well-received nonetheless. You gave him your number as thanks for inspiring the tune.

"Yeah, yeah, don't make a big deal out of it." He put his hands in his pockets. "It was a fantastic song, so thank you for making it. Feels good to know that it's about me."

He was uncharacteristically snarky. As you got to know Lemon, the nervous character he exhibited previously was because he was a huge fan of yours. He's more comfortable around you now, and rudeness was just a part of his personality. After a month of texting each other, you invited him to your place. No big deal. Just a celebrity inviting a fan to their house.

You'll never forget that time. You were lounging on the couch, figuring that it'd take him hours to get there. The sound of lightning strikes drew you to your windows, tucking the curtain aside and— is that Lemon? He's fast. Lightning following above him, he dashes to the front of your doorstep within seconds. The doorbell rang. Wow, he's really here, isn't he? That sound was evidence. You stood in silence, he was so fast that it hasn't registered in your mind.

The door is opened. Lemon greets you, his hair floating. He doesn't seem to notice, because he has a serious expression on his face.

"Hey," you welcome him. "Did you rub your hair on a balloon?"

"No. The very insinuation is ridiculous."

A chuckle brushes past your lips. You reach out, touching a strand of yellow hair that shocks your finger and has you pulling away. Lemon realizes that his hair is indeed sticking up, you kind of like it that way; he pats it down like he was trying to stop a fire. Static shocks his hands, but he's unaffected by it. "God, I hate when that happens! It's so embarrassing!"

He's cute. You can't pinpoint why, much less admit to yourself that you like someone you barely know. Sometimes, he doesn't mean what he says. He's awkward and tries to push people away, isolating himself so that his powers can't hurt anyone. Has it ever happened? Lemon has the potential to be able to control them, and if that happens, he won't have to be lonely anymore.

* * *

"They'll recognize your rainbow hair."

As you brush off dust on your suit, Lemon fruitlessly attempts to stop you from wearing the costume you lovingly call Megastar. You're almost done putting it on. Now all that's left is the Bear Jelly helmet that will effectively conceal your identity.

"My style is mimicked all the time. People will just assume I'm a big fan."

"Not when they hear your voice!" Lemon's voice cracks. He pauses, cheeks reddening as he realizes this, but resumes whining. "Look, DJ… crowds aren't for me. If one forms, bombarding us with questions and shoving cameras in our faces, then my powers could go haywire at the stress."

You examine the helmet you are about to put on your head. Its digital rectangular eyes are somehow brighter than the ones on your visor, projecting all the colors of the rainbow. Your real eyes could never look this vibrant, stuck one color for the rest of your life. You suppose that you're experienced in being drawn to electricity in this sense.

"Overthinking again, I see," you muse, the Bear Jelly helmet slipping onto your head with ease. Comfortable is your middle name when your eyes are concealed. It's effortless to look at Lemon now. His hands are in his pockets, a barrier of light blue electricity circling him, almost like a defense mechanism. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Come on, a change of scenery is all it'll take to feel like a whole new you!"

He gives in without question. You're his idol, after all. He has his arm wrapped around yours and everything, at least until you get to the mall and break the contact. Lemon plays with his rubik's cube as the two of you wander together, checking out what kind of deals are being promoted. You are, anyway.

Surprisingly, the eyes on you are not many. Lemon's shield has people giving fearful glances, finding ways to walk in the opposite lane of him. Black sparks dance off of its barrier. You tilt your head downward to take a look at the rubik's cube he's playing with, unbothered by the sparks. 

"You seem to be an expert at that," you say. All he gives you is a sideways glance, uninterested in the world around him.

"You sure like to give out compliments, huh? Just the rubik's cube I've been playing with my whole life. And thanks, I guess."

_ I wonder if kissing him would give me an electric shock. _

Has Lemon ever been kissed before? You've had your fair share of romance. Most of your dating had been done before your fame took off, and if there's one part of being a celebrity you wish didn't rear its ugly head so soon, it's the paparazzi. If you kissed him— found out if he'd shock you, got him to pay attention to  _ you _ instead of that rubik's cube, paparazzi would never leave his side. Lemon would become even more reclusive, never learning to master his destructive powers, or become what he fears by ending up hurting people.

It's why you hold back, despite your impending urges swarming all five other senses, glad your eyes have and always will be concealed.

Lemon's eyes are locked on the cube as he speaks. "By the way, I can charge your phone, if you want."

He's muttering. You had to evaluate what he said in order for the message to fully process, his cheeks tinted with light pink. Lemon is either blushing, or this helmet can mess with your vision. "I thought you didn't like being used for charging."

"Never said I did. I'm just putting it out there so you remember that I care. Orange is the only other person who I do this for."

He's opening up! You've heard of Orange quite a lot from him. Whenever she is the topic of a conversation, his voice becomes fond, tenderness in his words. She means the world to him.

"Did I tell you about the Halloween party we went to last year? By 'we' I mean Orange, Lime, Grapefruit and I." 

You give him a nod, letting him know that you're listening. By now the both of you have ceased strolling, freely taking up space in the lane. Lemon puts his rubix cube back in his pocket, making full eye contact with you. "Uh, it was fun, I guess. My beard was itchy the whole time, but people seemed to enjoy my costume. Have you ever been to a Halloween party, DJ?"

You gently grab his arm, walking into the nearest clothing store. People are giving the two of you weird looks, and if they stare for too long, your identity could be found out. Lemon catches on, walking alongside you.

"I shouldn't have called you by name." More black sparks fly around his electric shield. He rummages through his pockets as though he were looking for something, but you've known him long enough to understand that it's out of awkwardness. "This was a bad idea from the start, but at this point we might as well go through with it."

You snap your fingers, undeterred by his usual pessimism. "I know! A nickname is what I need. Can't go wrong with one of those!"

Lemon begins having a look at the newest deals. He rummages through various pairs of pants with the same disinterested gaze he always wears. "And what would I call you?"

"Scallion!"

"You don't resemble a scallion."

"Egg!"

"Every Cookie is made with eggs."

"Sugar!"

Lemon's face scrunches as he examines a black pair of pants, checking what size it is. "That could work…  _ Sugar _ . Does that sound weird?"

Hearing Lemon call you that shouldn't have made you feel as giddy as it did. A wide smile graces your features. He may not be able to see it, but you hope your eager response puts that picture in his mind. "That tune resonates with me! It has a great sound, Lemon."

"Whatever," Lemon responds quickly. He grabs the black pants and walks over to the shirts section, rummaging through the articles of clothing. "Wanted to try something new for a while, actually," he tells you. Following behind him, you listen, glad that he's taking the initiative.

"Scene, punk, emo, goth… I wanted to get into those kinds of fashion, but they're all so similar to each other that I don't know where to start." He picks out a black shirt with a white lightning strike illustrated on it, similar to his own shirt. "Your songs about self-expression inspire me to be myself. I don't want to socialize with other people, that's not going to change, yet I want to try out new styles. I'll dress however I want, regardless if it's emo, scene, or whatever."

He doesn't seem to realize that he's rambling. "The best part of being a musician is hearing about the effect your work has on other people," you reply. "I'm glad that I inspired you to put yourself out there!"

Lemon continues shopping. He perambulates around the store, picking out various items. He spends more of his time searching for specific clothes rather than browsing aimlessly. He knows exactly what kind of outfit he wants to put together. How much time has he spent wishing he had the courage to express himself?

"Orange is so good at socializing. She's never had to be afraid of her own power." He grabs a black leather jacket. "I've held myself back for a reason. I can change how I look, but I can't change my habits." Black gloves. "It took courage to come out to your show, all those months ago. Everyone was afraid of me as usual." Black shoes. "But lately, Orange is noticing that something has changed. I guess being with you is helping me learn to socialize." He even obtains a brand new pair of headphones. They're still lemon-shaped, but green this time. "What I'm trying to say is that you've given me more than I could ever ask for. I don't know what to do in exchange, if I even have anything to offer. What do I give to a celebrity?"

Lemon's hands are occupied right now. He meets your gaze, and although he knows where he is in the physical realm, he looks lost. There are a million different paths he could take, for he is the first of his kind. Nobody like Lemon exists. All his power did for him was make him afraid and isolated, you hold his face in your palms, if your helmet was off then you would've silenced him in a different way. "You have given me your unlimited potential," you say. "The power to split the sky and pierce the ground with lightning strikes."

Letting your persona go is gratifying. The character you show on stage is a version of you that is exaggerated and can get draining to act as. You're glad that you're wearing a costume; this conversation isn't for the media to gawk at.

"I should get changed," says Lemon, his cheeks pink. He squirms away from your hold, scrambling to find an employee so he can ask to use the fitting room. You sigh. This helmet is heavy, bringing you down like a weight on your shoulders. You don't need that kind of energy in your life.

* * *

"Sugar? Hello?" Lemon calls out. He's been standing in front of the fitting room for almost a minute, waiting for his friend to see his new outfit. You appear seemingly from the shadows, but this time, your helmet has been taken off. Your eyes are out in the open.

This is the first time you've witnessed him be this shocked. The two of you are staring at each other like it's the first time you've met, and it might as well have been. Lemon looks  _ stunning _ . When he was picking out clothes, you thought that he should wear more than one color, but the all black outfit suits him. His hair is sticking up due to static, and this time, it doesn't seem to be an accident. You can't help yourself. You are completely head over heels for Lemon.

"Is that expression supposed to be a good indicator of what you think?" Lemon remarks. That snark is part of what drew you to him. You smile, feeling like the pieces are fitting together. The lightning storm ended and out came a beautiful rainbow.

"It's perfect." Taking his hand in yours, you feel oddly exposed. This is the first time you have gone without your visor in years. Lemon's effulgent yellow hair is causing you to squint. You have seen the world in saturated, melancholy colors up until this point. The sheer brightness of your surroundings is headache inducing, Lemon's dark clothing both easier on your eyes  _ and _ pleasant to look at.

"There's nothing about it I want to change. Seriously, I can't believe you're a fan of mine. I've never felt this attracted to someone before."

Why can't you just say that you are in love with him? You're dancing around the subject, making a fool out of yourself. 

"It's not that big a change from my usual attire," replies Lemon. "I feel a little bit better about myself, but I'm not sure how this will help me learn to tame my powers."

"The fact that you're willing to change is already evidence you are taming your powers." You face nears his. Lemon surely must know what you're about to do. "Just— stay like that, alright?"

He doesn't move an inch. His breath is held.

You press your lips to his, holding both cheeks in your hands. His lips are soft, and the— ouch! He just  _ shocked _ you. You pull away from the kiss, and Lemon is already stammering out an apology. You kiss him again to shut him up. This time, he wraps an arm around your waist, embracing you. This is clearly Lemon's first kiss. His eyes are shut as you stare at him lovingly.

You pull away once more after a couple of seconds, the both of you panting for breath. "That was horrible, wasn't it."

"Not at all." You run your fingers through his electrified hair. "I didn't know how to tell you that I love you other than doing that."

"So you really like this outfit."

"I like  _ you _ , idiot."

"Your eyes look better than that visor."

"Oh, stop! You're gonna make me blush, Lemon!"

He smirks. "Maybe it's payback for all the times you've made  _ me _ blush."

When he leans forward to kiss you again, you reciprocate. 


End file.
